| Unaware of the charades
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| Playing with our shapes
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| The moment we’re alone, we can’t get no one to stay
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| We grow tired of what we make
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| We’re seven billion perfect starts
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| Underneath a question mark
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| Running out of steam, just to witness every part
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| Seven billion beaten hearts
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| And the chances are pulling you down
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| You’re gaining weight from the choices
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| When everyone wants you around
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| But no one accepts disappointments
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| I will try to get you home
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| When there’s to many ways to go
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| And you can’t settle for a road
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| Cause' you don’t want to get used to yourself again
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| Denying all you knew
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| Like seeing pictures from your youth
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| There’s nothing to be done, there is no other truth
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| You’ve already built your tomb
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| Name me your compass rose
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| And give back the needle that you stole
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| You learned to say goodbye before you learned hello
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| Now you don’t know which way to go
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| Indecisive like a second hand
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| You’re spinning around on a dial
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| Everything around you expand although you know that you’re just in denial
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| Every second another way |
| Hoping but it isn’t gonna stay
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| So you stay in a repetitive delay
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| Cause' you don’t want to get used to yourself again
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| From the moment it’d begun
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| Until you left that perfect pond
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| The flavors disappeared in one explosion
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| One life and on chewing gum
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| Don’t bother looking back
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| Spit out the unattached
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| And as perfection goes, looking for it’s path
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| Grow through these photographs
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| Because the chances are pulling you down
|
| You’re gaining weight from the choices
|
| When everything is coming around but you can’t find a way to hold it
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| I will try to get you there
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| Waving franticly to break your stare
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| Knowing that actually you’re aware
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| You just don’t want to get used to yourself again |